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But the saints were with me, Emilio. I met her on
the sea; quite by herself, on the sea of the Saint's pool. She was
lying back in a little boat, with no hat on, her hands behind her head
--so, and her eyes--her beautiful eyes, Emilio, were full of dreams,
of dreams of the sea."
"How do you know that?" said Artois, rather sharply.
"Cosa?"
"How do you know the Signorina was dreaming of the sea? Did she--did
she tell you?"
"No, but I am sure. We walked together from the boats. I told her she
was an enchantress of the sea, the spirit of the wave--I told her!"
He spread out his hands, rejoicing in the remembrance of his graceful
compliments.
"The Signorina was delighted, but she could not stay long. She had a
slight headache and was a little tired after the storm. But she would
have liked to ask me to the house. She was longing to. I could see
that."
He seized his mustache.
"She turned her head away, trying to conceal from me her desire,
but--"
He laughed.
"Le donne! Le donne!" he happily exclaimed.


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